


I'm Yours and That's It, Forever

by Lee_Moriarty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Being an Idiot (Good Omens), Crowley is stupid, Excessive Drinking, M/M, Miscommunication, No beta we fall like Crowley, Pining, SUFFER WITH ME, Sappy, Screaming at God, Suffering, angst with happy ending, aziraphale is on a trip and crowley breaks down, dangerous driving, dumb asses, sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lee_Moriarty/pseuds/Lee_Moriarty
Summary: Crowley wakes up to a letter from Aziraphale. Of course, he spills a mug of the angel's hot cocoa on the letter before he has a chance to read it. Which blurs and smudges out most of the letter. Crowley being Crowley jumps to conclusions and thinks that his angel has finally left him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 112





	I'm Yours and That's It, Forever

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm just on a writing roll today. Basically dumbass fanfics have become my nano for this year, so I'll just suffer. Anyway, here's some Crowley being dumb angst.   
Title is from The Ballad of Love and Hate by the Avett Brothers

Crowley almost didn’t hear the announcement from his angel. He was half asleep anyway, lounging face down on Aziraphale’s sofa. They been drinking the whole evening and despite sobering up before laying down, he still felt groggy and hazy. He could recognise that Aziraphale was downstairs, puttering around a bit. He smiled a bit as he almost expected the other to come up and speak to him. That didn’t happen though, but he kept an ear out when he heard the front door open.

“I’m leaving, Crowley,” Aziraphale called, his voice distant. Crowley frowned a bit, trying to hear what the other was saying to him.There was no doubt that he was at the front of the bookshop, most likely already out the door. He closed his eyes, yawning as he rolled over and went back to sleep. He enjoyed the socially acceptable oblivion that came with sleeping. It was really one of his favorite hobbies. 

It wasn’t until about two hours later that Crowley finally removed himself from the sofa. The bookshop was silent, which wasn’t very unusual as Aziraphale had a habit of getting so caught up in a book that he didn’t make any noise. He remembered thinking that he had heard Aziraphale say something earlier, before he had slept, but he didn’t remember what had been said.

He made his way down the stairs to the main shop, looking around to see if he could spot the angel hunched over a book. The shop was empty though. That also explained the lack of noise. Crowley frowned before shrugging. Aziraphale has most likely gone out for food or something and just forgotten to mention it. Although Crowley did have the memory of hearing the angel say something about leaving. That was probably what Aziraphale had been saying earlier. He wondered how much earlier Aziraphale had left.

Eyes scanning around the room, Crowley paused when he saw a letter on the desk, next to an already cold cup of hot cocoa. He rolled his eyes. It was exactly like the angel to leave his cup there to get cold. He’d just miracle it warm again later. 

The letter, though, held some interest though, but in his attempt to grab it, he knocked the cocoa over onto the paper. The cocoa seeped into the fancy paper and Crowley watched it happen. He grumbled, not even thinking about miracling the paper clean before picking it up. The demon waited a moment, shaking some of the chocolate from the paper before opening it up. Aziraphale’s writing on it was distinct and Crowley frowned, realising the at least half of the note had been smudged off by the cocoa now pooling on the floor. 

He didn’t even care to fix the paper as his eyes caught the first few lines of the letter. 

“Dearest Crowley,   
I am leaving this morning, although I assume you won’t notice until after I am gone. I won’t be bac-“ the words cut off there, becoming unreadable and the thought to fix them left his mind as he assumed what the letter was saying.   
Aziraphale was gone. And he wasn’t coming back. 

Crowley dropped the letter, the paper consumed by fire as emotions ran through the demon. It was like the apocalypse all over again, with Aziraphale gone and him on his own. He glanced at the clock in the shop, noting with irritation that it was running about five minutes behind. It was still only mid morning. 

It didn’t matter though. He decided, heading into the back room to find himself far too much alcohol. He felt empty and hollow, a numbness when he would have expected to feel anger or sadness. 

Crowley ran out of things to drink by late afternoon. Not to say that he had drank all of the alcohol that Aziraphale had, but instead drank all that he felt like he could open without the angel there to drink with him. He was drinking for oblivion today, not to enjoy Aziraphale and his companionship, so while he drank a lot, he had barely made a dent in the vast collection, if only because he didn’t want to open any of Aziraphale’s favorite wines. 

He stumbled out of the book shop that afternoon, after a moment of sobering up. Just enough, that as he slammed the door of his Bentley, he felt sober enough to drive it at a very high speed through London. Something that Aziraphale would have scolded him quite harshly for. He almost hoped that by doing so, it would summon Aziraphale to his side. The angel always did seem to know when he needed scolding for something or other. 

Aziraphale never appeared and Crowley only drove faster, glaring at the road as he headed out of the city. The M25 only served to piss him off further and he had a slight desire to see it aflame again. 

A stop or two later, perhaps four hours had passed and Crowley was outside of London, sprawled out over the hood of the Bentley. In his hand was a bottle, with about three similar bottles on the ground next to his beloved car.   
“Was this part of your plan?!” He shouted up at the sky, looking at the stars and remembering how it had been to create them. The love that had filled the hollow in his chest. He’d lost that when he’d fallen, but Aziraphale. He had fixed him, and now the angel was gone and never coming back. 

“Some plan,” He spat at the sky, taking his sunglasses off and doing his best to glare at God. He hoped that she could see him and would know just how pissed off he was. “Where is my angel?” He yelled after a moment, sniffling a bit before finishing off his bottle and throwing it. 

He stared at the bottles for a moment, lying innocently in the grass he was parked in. “Should I litter?” He mused, making a face. “I mean, I’m a demon, so I should. But Aziraphale would be mad,” hummed, considering it. “Well, he’s not here.” The demon reminded himself, shaking his head and getting back to his car and starting the engine. 

He stopped for a moment, swallowing hard. “Was this always the plan? To take him away just after we managed to be together?” He asked, voice weak and childlike. “That’s a bit cruel, even for you.” His words were slurred together and he sniffled before wiping his eyes. He was a demon, he wouldn’t cry over losing his angel. 

He got no reply. Why would he? God didn’t care. Crowley was just some lowly demon, it wasn’t like he mattered in any kind of plan. He pulled out of the field he’d been parked in, far too drunk to be driving, but doing it anyway. He almost hoped he’d be discorporated on the way home. 

The Bentley roared into its usual spot in front of the bookshop and Crowley was surprised to see lights on the inside of the building. Still drunk, he stumbled his way out of the car and into the shop. His eyes first caught the clock, cursing as he read 2:55 from it. The next thing that his eyes caught happened to be Aziraphale, sitting primly at his desk and reading. A fresh cup of cocoa sat next to him, undoubtedly cooling without the angel even noticing. 

Aziraphale looked up at him before he could say anything and Crowley felt his heart drop out of the bottom of his chest. The demon leaned drunkenly at the door, not wanting to sober up in case this vision of Aziraphale vanished. He didn’t think he could handle that.

“Oh Crowley, where have you been my dear boy?!” Aziraphale fretted, standing up and coming over to him. 

“Angel, I thought you left,” Crowley said, sunglasses falling off his nose as he stared at his angel. “Your letter said you were leaving?”

“Of course I did. I told you about the book conference I was going to today. I even left a letter for you. Didn’t you read it?” Aziraphale looked at him before frowning. “Did I forget to leave a note?”

“No, angel, the note just said you were leaving and you weren’t coming back.”

“Not back until tonight, that’s all, my dear. Why would I leave you?” Aziraphale looked at him, a concerned expression on his face.

Crowley felt his chest tighten. “Ngk, I dunno,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Would you?”

“Never, you demon. Now come along, sober up, we’ll go get breakfast in a few hours.”

Crowley nodded, closing his eyes as he sobered up quickly. When he opened his eyes, he smiled sheepishly at the angel. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for my dear?” Aziraphale smiles, grabbing the demon’s hand carefully. “I’m yours and that’s it, forever.”

“I… well, dunno. Forever? Really?”

“You’ll never get rid of me, you wily demon.”

And Crowley believed him.


End file.
